


Only me and Only You

by Emeli_Thorne



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Karen really missed Frank, Karen's POV, based on the apartment scene from 1x2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 01:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeli_Thorne/pseuds/Emeli_Thorne
Summary: He appears out of nowhere one afternoon - a homeless man playing on her kindness and generosity - and the moment he reveals himself to her is the moment Karen knows her peaceful days are over.Karen's thoughts and musings during and after her first encounter with Frank after so many months.





	Only me and Only You

He appears out of nowhere one afternoon - a homeless man playing on her kindness and generosity - and the moment he reveals himself to her is the moment Karen knows her peaceful days are over.

* * *

They go to her apartment, she offers him a beer, they exchange a few pleasantries. They even manage to fall into a brief banter of sorts when she mentions his looks and it reminds her of their time _before_.

Before he used her as bait, before that explosion, before he went after Schoonover, before she begged him not to kill the man but let her help him; before she told him he was dead to her and he slammed a door in her face.

Funny how things seemed so much easier when he was in hospital or jail, when he couldn’t run away from her, when their interaction wasn’t as strained as it is now, after so much has happened.

On the outside, he looks good. For once, there are no visible bruises marring his face so now that she can actually see him sans purples and blues, Karen thinks how much he resembles the person she saw on the photographs in his family home and at the same time, how much he’s changed since that night in the woods. The beard and longer hair suit him, though she knows he’s sporting them only as a way to conceal his more than recognizable features. He’s not as jumpy as before, giving her a slight hope he reached out to her to make amends, to tell her what he’s been doing all these months, to finally let her in on the inner workings of his mind. 

He jokes about growing a man bun but she doesn’t have it in her to continue this empty chat. It’s has been too long and Karen’s too tired to beat around the bush. She’s angry and hurt but doesn’t show it; she has gotten good at compartmentalising everything Frank-related. Or so she likes to think.

“What are you doing here, Frank?” she utters at last, calming the turmoil within her, schooling her features in a perfect poker face. To her surprise, her voice is flat and devoid of any emotion.

He says he had business to finish – a straightforward answer that needs no further elaboration. Karen knows him and knows what his business is. His nod indicates the business has been taken care of; maybe that’s why he seems calmer.

Her back is to him as Karen toes off her shoes and takes a sip of the beer in her hand, hoping it will give her some semblance of calm, stop her hands from trembling, stop her from crying out the pain she feels stirring in her chest.

When she turns around, it takes him a minute but he confesses the real reason he’s there, giving her poor heart the final blow: he’s not there to see her or inquire about her life so far; he’s not even there to apologise for the way things ended between them. Nope. Frank decided to seek her out because he needs her help. 

She suppresses a smile of pain because she knows it would lead to her crying and the last thing she wants to do is cry in front of Frank. Instead, she listens as he tells her about this guy, takes another sip of the beer, eyes trained on a random spot in front of her. Tears are burning her throat and she barely manages to cover the hurt in her voice. Not that Frank would notice with how scared he sounds.

He’s taking out flowers from the backpack he brought with him, and for a second, for one lousy second she allows herself to hope, to feel a meagre surge of happiness coarse through her body before Frank extinguishes it – it’s just a way they can communicate. _Nothing else, Karen, stop with your childish wishes_ , she rebukes herself.

Her throat is constricted, tears are welling in her eyes and soon she won’t be able to restrain herself.

 _Okay_ , she tells him, with a forced smile. _Okay_ , he tells her, his dark eyes bearing a soft glow to them when he says it; it’s that patented look of his that is supposed to mean something, that is supposed to convey more than he utters. She doesn’t have it in her to wonder what that more might be. _Okay_ , she repeats, because she has no strength to say anything else.

He’s about to leave and Karen debates with herself if she should stay put and silent, or get up and yell her frustration out on him or-

She’s on her feet before she even realises and her arms are around Frank and it feels so _so_ good. He is real and solid and he is right there, in her apartment. It’s not just a figment of her damage mind, she didn’t conjure him up in a pathetic attempt to alleviate the ache of her lonely heart. She inhales him, committing his fragrance to memory because who knows when or if she will ever see him again.

After her initial surprise attack hug, she feels Frank’s large palm on her back and his bearded face is pressed against the curve of her neck, and God, she wants to cry because nothing has ever felt the way this feels right now. It’s longing and love and comfort and ‘he’s alive’ all wrapped up in one, cloaking them for a brief moment as they sway, sway to the music only they hear.

Eyes closed, Karen hugs him tighter, pulling him closer to her wishing she could just absorb him entirely, meld their bodies together, hold him like that forever and let him hold her like that forever and they would never have to break apart and Frank wouldn’t have to go away again and wage another war because they would both be safe in each other’s arms.

That’s not the case, she is well aware. That may never be the case because there’s is war inside Frank Castle even when he is not in one physically and nothing she does or says will ever suffice to prevent him from doing what he does best.

There is no other way but to let him go.

It feels like tearing open her chest and viciously squeezing her heart when Karen finally gathers strength to unwrap her arms and take a step back.

“It’s just really good to see you” she whispers, and they share a look. 

Then he out the door and out of her life once more.

The sense of utter solitude hits her then like a wrecking ball, tearing down the walls that had gone up when they entered her apartment and there is no way of building them back up.

Her cries and tears come in waves and torrents, she can’t stopping them. Doesn’t want to. Her knees buckle from under her weigh and she plops onto her couch, screaming her lungs out. She wraps her arms around herself, like that will keep her from completely falling apart.

Ben, Matt, Foggy, Frank... All the people she lost one way or another. People that are a part of her being, people she met here in New York that brought her joy and purpose in spite of the havoc that became an everyday occurrence. 

Ben and Matt are gone forever. It’s a fact, a truth she had to accept, has to accept to function as normally as she can. Guilt lingers in her, an ever-present companion. Nightmares haunt her – of Ben being killed, Matt being crushed by an entire building as he tries but fails to save his one true love.

Once upon a time, she would have hated him for that, but the feeling has long since disappeared. Karen understands his actions now, insane as they were. Love makes people act and do things they never thought they were capable of. After all, didn’t she kill a man to protect her loved ones?

Foggy is there, but he is not. _Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz_ keep him busy he hardly has any time for anything. Karen understands. She always understands, even when her loneliness is killing her and Foggy is her only existing link to Matt, she doesn’t pressure him but copes on her own.

But, Frank. 

They are one in the same, she recognized long time ago, back when she was researching into his life and got to know Frank before he became New York’s murderous menace.

It wasn’t until this very day, this afternoon, that she realised how much she had missed him. It’s unlike the way she misses Matt, Ben, or Foggy.

Missing Frank is like an anchor that pulls her soul deep into the bottomless darkness of her sinful being.

The knowledge that he is alive and well feels like that anchor has been lifted slightly and the weight of everything isn’t as heavy as it was before. 

The hug... was as if someone had put a life jacket over her and she is being pulled to the surface, breathing fresh air for the first time in forever. 

She allows herself to cry it all out – the anger, bitterness, sadness, longing – and afterwards, she feels better, cleaner, lighter, happier.

 _I’ll see him again, I’ll see him again_ , she repeats this prayer that night until she is sure of it like she is sure the sky is blue. It lulls her into tranquility that left her months ago, when she lost him and Matt. 

It’s back now, though.

And so is Frank.

She falls asleep with a smile.


End file.
